Orcblood Legacy: Skirmishes: Orcs by Bernard Bertram (good inspirational books .TXT) 📕

to the conjoined tunnels one last time for any sign of where the councilman had been dragged. His eyes caught a glimpse of a few drops of blood down the path straight ahead just as his pursuers breached the intersection.

Bitrayuul turned to the vile creatures, making a mental note of the path he needed to take—if he survived. He stared down the dozen trolls with fear in his heart. With no fire in sight, there was no chance of success. He flexed his fingers in preparation and was reminded of the cut on his forearm as the blood stuck to his fingers. The group of trolls only increased their speed upon seeing the half-orc standing in wait for them. Salivating at the kill to come, their lusting eyes glowed in the dark tunnel, narrowed in wicked grins.

LIFE

I suppose this is it. There are too many.

Each of Bitrayuul’s foes rushed toward him with their mouths wide open. Their imposing, sharpened teeth minor in comparison to the pair of long tusks extending a hand’s length past their faces, capable of tearing through flesh with ease. All twelve of the savage creatures tightly gripped the stone blades in their hands—not that it would matter.

The half-orc raised his arms defensively, though for what purpose he knew not. Against so many, the young warrior would serve as little more than a minor obstacle. No flame to aid him, his spiked gauntlets were as useful as wet cloths against the monstrous trolls and their magical healing. All Bitrayuul could do was wait for his time to die.

I’m sorry, Fangdarr. I should never have left.

In the final moments, staring down the oncoming assailants, Bitrayuul was filled with more self-doubt and guilt than ever before. Guilt for abandoning his brother, only to perish within a few days. He wondered if he had survived so far only due to Fangdarr’s protection. Bitrayuul had always thought he could hold his own, but there he stood, awaiting his own annihilation.

I’m sorry, Father. I should have stayed out of the tunnels as you cautioned.

The trolls were only a few paces away. All the memories of his childhood seemed to flood back in a single wave. The cherished kindness of his mother. The selfless tutelage of his mentor. And the unshakeable loyalty of his brother. In part, Bitrayuul reflected upon the scenes of his past and realized that perhaps his passing was not the worst. He had lived a good life full of love and compassion. Did he really need to continue? Wasn’t that short time of happiness enough?

No.

That was the thought that resonated within him with undeniable command.

NO.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. There had to be more. Adventure. Love. Loss. Life.

There is more.

Planting his heel, Bitrayuul spun toward the wall and launched a balled fist as hard as he could into the stone. Beneath the force, his makeshift gauntlet of bone fragmented and fell from his hand. At first, the half-orc thought his desperate effort had failed. The stone wall stood resolute in its defiance. Then the cracks came. First a trickle of debris, then a fracture. Next came the fissure, rending apart the rocks as if they were naught but clay. Beneath its own weight, the stone began collapsing on itself and groaning in protest.

Realizing the severity of what he may have done, Bitrayuul turned away and sprinted in the opposite direction of the trolls. Their confusion had frozen them in place as they watched the fissure crease along the tunnel around them until finally the stones above could no longer handle the pressure. Following the trail of nearly dried blood droplets, Bitrayuul shivered at the sound of bones crunching and trolls screaming in agony. The pit of his stomach sank as he realized that the beasts wouldn’t die beneath those stones. Their bodies would heal, and they would be forced to live in constant agony for many moons, begging for relief.

Bitrayuul disregarded the guilt-ridden thoughts and kept his head low, eyeing the trail of blood that was growing fresher with each stride.

JAGGED

Left, right, three more lefts. Downhill, uphill.

Gods, these tunnels go on forever! Bitrayuul’s arms grew weary as he ascended the ancient iron ladder that the dwarves had placed many years ago. The winding mine twisted and turned in every direction and still the half-orc had not caught up to the senator. Worse, the drops of blood he hounded were growing more and more infrequent, leaving his path up to chance more often.

By then, Bitrayuul didn’t know for what reason he continued. Perhaps it was honor, or more so because there was no other choice. In truth, the young warrior was lost and had no hopes of finding his path—especially with the way he came sealed beneath the stone.

At the edge of his wits, when all hope seemed lost and no blood caught his sight for more than a hundred paces, a barely audible noise twitched his ear. What was that? Is that them? Halting his movements entirely, Bitrayuul turned his head to hear more clearly down the tunnel ahead.

Nothing.

He took a step toward the stone wall, placing his ear against it and hoping the sounds of footsteps would be amplified. For many moments, his face lay flat against the cold stone.

Nothing.

He let out a heavy sigh. Why did I do this? he asked himself with great regret, resting his head against the scarred wall. What could you have possibly hoped to achieve?

“Bug off, ye smelly rats!”

Bitrayuul was up in an instant as the sound lightly echoed to him. I knew I heard something! He turned his head again. I’m certain that was a dwarf. It has to be the Senator! Taking off in a dead sprint that denied the aching in his legs, the half-orc knew he was close. He looked down at his shattered gauntlet in his right hand, then to the crusted wound on his left forearm. Still with no fire, he had no idea what service he may prove to be to the captured dwarf. But he needed to try.

“BAH, get